


Coming with the Sakura

by Generous_Nut_Bouquet



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Bestiality, Digimon/Human Relationships, Does this count as bestiality?, Dreams as plot devices?, Gift Fic, Knotting, M/M, Plot Devices, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Teratophilia, human/humanoid monsters, kind of plotty, more plot than I plotted for, tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16825936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Generous_Nut_Bouquet/pseuds/Generous_Nut_Bouquet
Summary: Takeru sees something he was never meant to see and has a crisis of sexual identity because of it.





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BattyPastel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattyPastel/gifts).



> For the lovely BattyPastel, who is a joy to hang out with, digitally or otherwise.
> 
> Note: Takeru is 14 or 15, hence the underage tag

Takeru read the letter once. Twice. Again. He blinked back the sting of tears threatening in his eyes.

He’d done it. He’d been accepted into S high school. 

All those hours of studying and mock exams and begging Koushiro for help had paid off. 

He’d made it into his first pick. 

_He’d made it into his first pick._

He dropped into his desk chair with a soft exhale, months of stress and worry falling away like a shroud and leaving him feeling so light that his fingers and toes tingled. 

“I did it Patamon.” He said. Even his voice sounded breathy with relief. Patamon smiled proudly at him from his perch on Takeru’s bed. He didn’t look surprised, but then again he and Yamato had been telling Takeru that he’d get in the entire time...

Oh! He needed to tell Yamato. Immediately.

He dug his cell phone out of his bag but remembered at the last second that his brother had decided to go camping in the digital world for a few days, since he hadn’t had much time to spend with Gabumon the last few months between his own examinations and his band and his clubs and everything else he got up to in his day to day life. And if he was in the digital world, he wouldn’t have cell signal, even if he’d taken his phone camping with him. 

He could just email him, he supposed. Those went through just fine. 

Or he could go find him and tell him in person. 

He bit his lip. He didn’t want to intrude on his brother’s alone time with Gabumon, but he was flying a little too high on his unexpected victory over the school system to keep the news to himself for a second longer than he had to. He knew where Yamato had planned to set up camp. He could pop in and out in less than half an hour. He might even be able to convince Yamato to cook him a victory dinner when he got home, if he pestered him enough.

It wasn’t like his brother would begrudge him interrupting his trip. Not for news like this.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and stood.

“Want to go see if we can find onii-chan?” he asked, grabbing his hat and his house keys from his desk. Patamon stretched leisurely.

“Sure?” he said, sounding a bit puzzled “But isn’t he out camping with Gabumon?” 

“I want to tell him, though.” Takeru folded his acceptance letter carefully into fourths and slipped it into his pocket, then scooped his digimon into his arms and held him close. “He’ll be excited. He put all that effort into forcing me to study and it paid off. This is partially his victory too!” 

“I’m pretty sure he went camping to get away from you.” Patamon muttered. Takeru chose not to be offended by that, partially because it was probably true; He hadn’t really been at his best the last couple of months, too stressed over the mass panic of homework and exams that his life had devolved into and as supportive and nurturing as Yamato could be, he’d never been one for extensive patience, especially when it came to whining, which Takeru had, admittedly, been doing more than his fair share of. He honestly felt bad about it. 

Or, he would once the high of victory wore off.

Probably.

“Which is why he’ll be so glad to hear the good news.” He told Patamon as he toed on his shoes and booted up his computer. “All that time he put up with me, and it worked out in the end.” He chose the portal closest to the lake Yamato had picked to camp at. If Patamon said anything in response, it was lost to the rush of digitization.

“Wasn’t your mom home?” Patamon asked some time later as they pushed through a patch of undergrowth. The portal had dumped them out in a thick tangle of trees and tropical flowers, and he wasn’t entirely sure where the path was supposed to be. Takeru checked his digivice to make sure that he was headed in the right direction, humming absently.

“Yeah, I think she was working in the kitchen. Why?”

“....You didn’t want to tell her about your letter?”

Takeru blinked. 

“I didn’t think about it.” He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll tell her when we get home.” She’d be happy to know he’d been accepted too, but she hated it when he interrupted her when she was working, so he’d just leave it until later. 

“What about your dad?” Patamon pressed.

“He’s at work.” Takeru muttered. He hesitated, cocking his head. Faint on the wind, he thought….“Do you hear that?”

It sounded like Yamato’s voice. It was so soft he couldn’t make out what was being said, but he knew what his brother sounded like.

“They must be just over there.” He said, and now that he was looking he could see that the trees thinned a bit ahead of them. He started in that direction.

“Uh, Takeru…” Patamon called after him. His voice sounded odd -- a little apprehensive, but Takeru chalked it up to his reluctance to impinge upon his brother’s privacy and ignored him.

“Hey--” he started to say as he rounded a large tree trunk and came within sight of the camp, but he only got as far as the rush of air on the ‘h’ before the word stuck in his throat: He’d found Yamato alright, except that it wasn’t Gabumon with him; It was Weregarurumon. Normally this would have put Takeru on edge, because a fully digivolved Perfect level digimon partner usually meant that danger was nearby. Usually. But neither Yamato nor Weregarurumon were readying for battle. They were -- 

They were --

Takeru ducked back behind the tree and pressed his hand to his mouth, face so hot he could feel his eyes burning. 

They were -- 

Yamato had been --

Had they seen him?

He swallowed. He needed to leave, now. He’d walked into something he was obviously never supposed to see. He should head back to the portal, leave and pretend that he’d never left home.

 _Had Yamato seen him?_ he had to make sure before he left, otherwise he'd drive himself nuts wondering.

Against his better judgment, he peeked back around the tree. 

Yamato obviously hadn’t seen him; He was still in the same position, naked and kneeling with his ass in the air as Weregarurumon knelt behind him, long tongue lapping at his rear in long, slow strokes. Yamato’s eyes were closed tight, a deep flush starting across his cheeks and dripping across his ears and down his neck and shoulders. He had his face partially buried in the crook of his arm and he was talking, muttering into the dirt about how good his partner felt, how he hoped he tasted good for him and other filthy things that Takeru couldn't quite catch. Weregarurumon made a low, pleased noise, and on the next upward pass of his tongue, instead of lapping with the flat of it as he had been, he pushed the organ...uh…

He…

Takeru was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open.

Yamato obviously approved of the change: His back arched and he made a high whining noise -- one that Takeru had previously associated with wounded animals, but would now never be able to hear the same way, ever again. He watched on as his brother pressed his flushed cheek to the ground and reached behind him with both hands, grabbing the globes of his ass and spreading them so that Weregarurumon could have better access to his hole.

“Oh god, yes, just like that -- Fuck!”

Weregarurumon placed his much larger hands over Yamato’s and spread him even further, so that he could press his muzzle closer to his prize. He growled low in his chest. Takeru was close enough that he could see the way his claws made little indents in the supple flesh of Yamato’s behind. Yamato keened and pressed eagerly back.

Exactly how long had that been going on, anyway?! How had he not noticed? Was this new? Was this their first time? Or had Yamato sneaked off to the digital word before to meet with his partner and...do….things. 

To have sex.

Takeru waited for the feeling of disgust that he thought those words should evoke him him -- it was Weregarurumon… he was humanoid shaped, yes, but there was no denying how much more canine he was in design...and that was ignoring completely the fact that he was a digital monster -- but all he felt was fascination. Was this why Yamato had spurned Sora’s affections? Was this why he never seemed interested in any of the confessions he had received from his classmates or his fans?

Yes, Takeru though. That was actually, probably it. His brother….just didn’t swing that way.

Weregarurumon pulled back and licked his muzzle slowly as if savoring the flavor he found there. Yamato huffed and tilted his head a bit to the side so that he could watch his partner from the corner of his eye.

“Get. Back. Here.” he snapped. Weregarurumon just laughed and gave Yamato’s ass a light smack.

“Patience, Padawan.” he rumbled. With one hand he reached down and unzipped his pants. 

It had never occurred to Takeru that those pants might actually be functional. They appeared and disappeared with Weregarurumon's digivolution so he'd just assumed they were for aesthetic purposes. Another thing that Takeru had never considered before, was whether or not Weregarurumon has a penis, and if so, what it might look like; But there it was, bright red, corded with veins and surprisingly humanoid, with two bulbous glands at the tip, a long, thick shaft that ended in a flared, rounded base.

“Don’t you quote outdated pop culture references at me, you overgrown --”

Yamato cut himself off with a yelp. The smack of Weregarurumon’s hand connecting with his ass was much louder the second time. And the third. And the fourth. On the fifth strike, Yamato moaned loudly and Weregarurumon leaned down until his muzzle was level with Yamato’s ear, pressing his dick into the cleft of Yamato’s ass. He thrust once, hard enough to rock them both forward, and said “You’re not the boss here.”

Yamato made a choked noise that might have been a laugh, might have been a whimper, and pressed the heels of his hands into the dirt, pushing back against his partner’s hips. 

Weregarurumon reached around and enclosed both of Yamato’s wrists in one large large paw, holding them casually in place while his other disappeared between his partner’s legs. Yamato made a high keening noise and squirmed beneath him, alternately rocking back against Weregarurumon’s dick and forward into his grip. Weregarurumon pressed his muzzle into the side of Yamato’s neck and Takeru heard him take a long, deep breath. 

“You smell so good like this, Yamato-kun.” He said. “You taste good, too. But I want you to cum with my knot buried in your ass, not my tongue.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yamato moaned. He turned his face into the side of Weregarurumon’s and pressed it against his fur. “That sounds great, let’s do that. Now. Please.”

“Needy.” Weregarurumon growled. He nuzzled his partner’s cheek affectionately, the gesture so tender and completely at odds with the rest of the proceedings that it took Takeru a little aback. Then he pulled back completely, leaving his human panting in the dirt. 

“Only for you.” Yamato muttered. “Do you want me on my back or do you want me like this?” He wriggled his ass in the air for emphasis, the tanned skin flushed an angry red where Weregarurumon had hit him. Weregarurumon fisted his cock slowly, expression thoughtful. His dick was leaking copiously at the tip, and he spread the fluid up and down the shaft with languid, casual strokes while he pondered Yamato’s question. 

“We’ll start with you on your back.” he said after a long moment. Yamato rolled over obligingly and spread his thighs. At this angle Takeru could see his dick, too, where it twitched fitfully against his belly. “We'll start with you on your back” the Digimon repeated “with your hands behind you.”

To Takeru's surprise, Yamato complied without argument, tucking his hands submissively behind him.

Weregarurumon gave himself a couple more strokes, then let go in favor of grasping Yamato’s hips and pulling his legs up into the air.

“Ok?” Weregarurumon asked softly. Yamato nodded.

“Yeah. You don’t have to go as slowly this time. You won’t hurt me.” 

Weregarurumon made a noncommittal noise, but used his thumbs to pull Yamato’s cheeks apart so that he could line the head of his cock up with his asshole. Yamato took a deep breath and let it out slowly and as he did, Weregarurumon pressed forward, sinking his shaft into his body in one long, steady thrust. Takeru couldn't see it at this distance but he could imagine what he's brother's hole might look like, taking in all of that girth, stretching wider and wider as the organ lead to the knot ballooning at its widest point. 

Yamato tipped his head back and groaned. 

“You're so big….”

“I think” Weregarurumon panted “it's that you're so tight.” He pulled out just a little and gave a shallow thrust. Yamato shifted so that his legs had better purchase on his partner's arms, spreading himself a little wider.

“I told you, you can go harder this time. I promise I won't break.”

Weregarurumon hesitated, forehead furrowed as if he might protest, but after a long second he shifted his grip on Yamato's hips and bent him forward, pulling all but the tip of his dick out. His next thrust was neither shallow, not gentle. He buried himself to the hilt in Yamato's ass so forcefully that the human slid back a few inches. 

“Fuck! Yes! That's what I'm talking about!”

Weregarurumon pulled out again and this time he jerked Yamato's body forward to meet his thrust. He fucked into him again and again, building up a steadily increasing rythme. Each stroke of his dick was punctuated by a yell or sigh or curse from his partner, and the soft slap of skin on skin.

“Ah!” Yamato wailed “Ah~ah~ah~fuck! Yes! The~e~ere!”

Weregarurumon made a feral noise that stood the hair on the back of Takeru's neck straight up, and bore down on his brother with a burning intensity, any initial hesitation apparently thrown tothe wayside as he bent his body over Yamato's, bent Yamato in half, clawed hands gripping his hips so hard that Takeru knew there would be bruises there, and fucked him as if he might die should he dare to slow his blistering pace. Yamato threw his head back, mouth wet and gaping open as he cried his pleasure to the sky, eyes glazed and unseeing, lost in the sensations his partner was coaxing from his flesh. 

“Harder, just a little harder” he gasped “I'm almost...almost…”

Weregarurumon pulled out entirely and the noise of offence Yamato made didn't sound completely human.

“What the f--” he started, but Weregarurumon paid him no heed, grabbing him by one arm and flipping him over onto his stomach, then pulling him back against his body until Yamato was spread across his thighs. For a moment Takeru could see his cock, and he saw that the bulge at the base had expanded to about the size of a baseball. 

That won't fit! He thought. But apparently that wasn't an option.

Weregarurumon reached between himself and Yamato. He ran his fingers through the slick pouring from his tip, and then pushed those fingers upwards into the loosened hole above him. One finger, two, three, four, two from each hand, and he pulled Yamato's sphincter open and held it open. Yamato reached back and hooked his arms around Weregarurumon's neck, holding himself up on trembling thighs.

The tip of Weregarurumon's penis slid easily back into his partner's body, as did the shaft, but the bulge at the base was too big. It had to be to big, there was no way Yamato's body would take something that thick, right?

And yet, slowly, Yamato sank down over the knot, bit by slow, agonizing bit, until it, too, was hidden from sight inside his body. 

Yamato squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back to rest against Weregarurumon's shoulder, mouth still hanging open as he panted, dragging air in in loud, ragged gasps. His dick was twitching hard, jutting out into the air in front of him, glistening and dripping with his own fluids and flushed a dark, angry color. Weregarurumon's hands were clamped down onto his hips like vices. They both held still for a long moment. Then, slowly, Weregarurumon began to move, circling his hips in tight, shallow motions that made Yamato twitch and jerk in his lap as if he were being touched by a live wire. 

“...Takeru?”

It was barely a whisper, but it startled him badly. Takeru jerked back and nearly collided with Patamon, who was hovering by his ear. Their eyes met and it took Takeru's dazed brain a long moment to catch up to why his partner was even there, looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite parse out. His own dick throbbed painfully against his thigh and he longed to touch himself, and share in the release that he knew Yammato was about to experience.

"Takeru?" Patamon prompted again, so softly Takeru almost couldn't hear it "Maybe we should go?"

Takeru blinked. Maybe...they...should....oh.

His face heated again, not with arousal this time, but with shame: He'd just....stood there. And watched. He'd spied on his brother in an intimate moment and ...

God, what was _wrong_ with him?

“...need to leave…” he agreed, voice hardly more than a breath. His throat was so dry that even that little bit of effort hurt. Patamon said nothing, but he followed on silent wings as Takeru limped as fast as he dared back to the portal. 

He'd….he'd just send Yamato an e-mail, then.


	2. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru stresses and his stress leads to stress dreams of the plot device kind....which stresses him out even further.
> 
> It's a cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 6/27
> 
> I didn't like the way ths chapter ended up so after much debating I re-added some of the stuff I had taken out the first time. So it's a lot longer and a lot more plot than porn, which is what I had been trying to avoid. I'm also shit at writing realistic dreams, so.
> 
> It's mostly a complete rewrite but I did try and merge the old chapter content into the new one. So if you see any bits that don't seem like they belong or that read a bit disjointedly let me know because I did this at ass o'clock last night while half asleep.
> 
> As always, I hope this chapter is at least enjoyable.

There had been many times in his life that Takeru had cause to regret his actions. Some of them, he forgot as time marched on and dulled the edges of the memories a blurry sepia. Others haunted him in crystal clear detail, tainting his thoughts and actions with their sticky residue until he thought, sometimes, that he'd acquired an awfully heavy load of sins for someone only just entering high school.

There were few actions he regretted more than spying on Yamatto and Weregarurumon, though.

The fifteen minutes he'd spent doing slow, meditative breaths when he'd returned to his room that day -- until his heart had stopped pounding and the icy fingers of panic had subsided somewhat -- had been some of the most uncomfortable of his life; His arousal had been long gone before he'd even entered the portal back to the real world, swallowed in the creating wave of _why why why why?_

What he'd seen weighed on him. Not the sex --or rather, not just the sex itself, though he found himself wishing that it was just that: it would have been so much easier to just brand his brother a pervert in his mind and move on. But it wasn't the images of Weregarurumon looming over his brother, cock red and swollen and exposed, or how easily Yamato had accepted him into his body, as if they had done the same thing over and over again and just knew how to connect without much thought or effort; It was the displays of affection, their playful banter. How unbothered Yamato had been by what he was doing. He'd seen his brother in so many different moods but he'd never seen him so...at ease, so _happy <\i>, and that was what really got him: he couldn't quite shake the feeling he'd seen a side of Yamatto that was meant for Gabumon, and Gabumon alone._

The thing that ate at him the most, though -- the thing that had his stomach in knots and his thoughts scattered and his palms sweaty -- had been his own reaction. Once he'd gotten home and the shock had worn off, his rumination had turned from his brother's illicit relationship, to his own failure to abort mission and leave once the situation had registered, and then the self-disgust had set in in earnest:

Why?

Why had he stayed and watched?

More importantly, why had he found the sight so compelling? What had kept him rooted there, and why had he gotten such a voyeuristic pleasure from it?

And why couldn't he _stop thinking_ about it?

Patamon didn't say anything, but Takeru could feel his eyes on him as he picked despondently at his dinner that night, circling thoughts too loud and nerves to tightly strung to force the food down without gaging. What the Digimon was thinking he wasn't sure, to be honest, which was something of a first in their relationship. It disquieted him almost as much as the idea that, at some point in the next few days, he'd have to look Yamato in the face and pretend that he hadn't seen him fucking his digimon in the forest.

How was he going to look Yamato in the face and not just _say something_?

The thought terrified him. What if he let something slip, and Yamatto realized what he'd done? What if he got angry? What if he left, just like --

He threw himself into readying for school the next day, and it helped keep his mind from wandering for the most part, but he never quite managed to shake the cold dread that had settled in his gut. In hindsight, that was probably what triggered the dreams.

The first one started as one of his recurring nightmares -- the one he'd had regularly since he was seven, the one where he watched his best friend slowly dissolve away into nothing above him while he'd stood on the broken beach below and screamed helplessly. Though he'd picked up plenty of new terrors to dream about over the years, none of them were so vivid that they left him twisted up inside for hours after he woke, so it was probably fitting, in some weird way, that it was this king of night terrors that kicked off one of the most stressful weeks of his life.

It happen like this: two exhausting days after “The Incident,” he'd gone to bed and found himself standing ankle deep in cold, gritty sand, screaming Angemon's name through his tears and snot until he could taste blood in the back of his throat. Angemon smiled benignly down at him, his left arm gone, his shoulder and legs up to his knees peeling away in a fine haze of iridescent data. This was normal.

Then Angemon had reached down with his only arm and wiped one of his tears away, cupping his cheek gently the way his mother had when he'd been little and upset over some trifle.

“I will never truly leave you, Takeru.” He said, voice firm. “I love you, so I will always come back.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed him.

And Takeru made a desperate noise in the back of his wounded throat and kissed back clumsily, clutching at Angemon's shoulders so hard that his fingers went numb.

“Don't go.” He begged between pesses of lips. “Just stay, don't go.”

“You love me, so I will come back.” Angemon soothed.

“Don't _go!"_ Takeru stressed. He felt panicked and sorrowful; he felt like his chest was going cave in on itself; he felt scraped raw, like an exposed nerve. “Don't go.” He repeated, broken.

Angemon allowed him to bury his tear streaked face in the smooth fall of his hair, moving his lips to his ear instead, where he breathed “Don't be afraid of me, Takeru.”

Then he was gone in a shower of diamond-like pixels.

And Takeru was alone.

And Takeru was awake.

And Takeru was very confused.

*~*~*~*

He talked to Tailmon about his dreams, sometimes. She was the only one who really understood, after all: she'd watched her best friend die, too, right before her eyes, murdered in cold blood for the sake of keeping her safe.

(He had tried to talk to Ken about it too, once, but the topic of losing his partner had made the other boy cagy and upset, understandably, so he'd quickly dropped it and never brought it up again. It was something of a guilty relief, though -- they had been friends for years and Ken was one of the sweetest people Takeru had ever met, but even so, something about the other boy never failed to set Takeru's teeth on edge.)

(He thought sometimes, in the wee hours of the night when his thoughts and self reflections were too loud for him to sleep, that he'd been so disturbed by Ken's darkness because he saw in it a possible path he might have taken himself, had his adventure in the digital world taken Yamato from him. Or if it had taken Patamon and not given him back.)

So he'd gone to Tailmon, and he'd described the dream.

He edited out the kisses, obviously. Those, he chalked up to his worry over the Yamato-Weregarurumon situation, and the dream had been pretty typical other than that. But Angemon's last words had stuck with him.

_Don't be afraid of me._

“Maybe because you know that if Patamon digivolves into Angemon it means he's running the risk of using all of his power again.” She suggested after a thoughtful pause.

“He's digivolved tons since then.” Takeru muttered. He poured both of them another cup of tea, breathing deep of the fragrant scent of Jasmine and trying to shake the strange, significant feeling those words had left him with.

_Don't be afraid of me_

What she said made sense, of course -- he was self-aware enough to know that he had some... emotional scars where Patamon was concerned. But something about the way they had been said, with an edge if longing….

He'd never been afraid of Angemon a day in his life. For him, yes. of him.

Never of him.

“But it _did_ happen once. Maybe your subconscious thinks it could happen again. I know I…” she paused, took a sip of tea, then continued “ ...I don't like tall buildings. Or skyways.” She shrugged when he shot her a surprised look. “I know it. It's stupid isn't it? A building didn't kill him. Neither did a skyway. But...he still died on one.”

They both shared a moment of somber silence.

“Maybe you are just afraid of what Angemon means.” She said eventually. “That Patamon has to fight.” She smiled. “We _all_ know how you feel about that.”

“Yeah. Well.” He said with a small smile of his own. He didn't have anything to follow that up with, so he didn't, and they finished their tea in companionable silence.

Maybe he was thinking on it too much, he decided as he made his way home, later. The fact that he was worrying over what he'd seen in the forest was warping his dreams and now he was looking for meaning where there was none. The stress of getting into highschool wasn't helping, he was sure. He was making a bigger deal out of one unsettling thing in a dreamful of unsettling things, than it deserved.

And yet Patamon had digivolved countless times for the express purpose of fighting since that day on the beach and never once in six years had his nightmare deviated.

But, well, there was a first time for everything, and he'd already been under a lot of stress before….

Before.

So.

That was probably it.

_Don't be afraid of me_

Yeah. That was probably it.

*~*~*~*

He was standing in his elementary school homeroom watching Yamato and Weregarurumon through the window. Yamato was in Weregarurumon's lap, turned to face him so that he could nuzzle his chest-fur affectionately while Weregarurumon thrust languidly into his body. They looked happy.

To his left his classroom extended for miles, acres of desks and trees and flowers and gently swaying grass. To his right, Angemon stood passively next to the lecture podium, one hand resting lightly on it as if preparing to teach a lesson, and the other dissolving into flakes of light. He was so tall that his head brushed the ceiling (or maybe the ceiling was unusually low. Takeru wasn’t sure). He was watching Takeru with an unreadable expression. Takeru wondered if his face plate was removable, or if it was attached like skin. He'd never given it any thought, but he figured if Weregarurumon could unzip his pants, maybe Angemon could take off his face.

"What's the matter?" Angemon asked, voice slightly concerned.

"My desk is so far away," Takeru responded sadly. "I'll have to take a bus to get there."

He placed his hand on the window and pushed. It gave slightly beneath his fingers as if it were made of gel instead of glass, and he felt an eager thrill go through him: he wanted to be outside in the sun and fresh air, where Weregarurumon and Yamato were.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, because he was pretty sure digimon didn't have to go to school..

“I used the portal.” Angemon said. Takeru nodded and kept watching his brother. Weregarurumon nuzzled at Yamatto's hair and Takeru frowned, upset, though he couldn't say why. Angemon's hand rubbed comfortingly up and down his arm. “Are you jealous?" The digimon asked him.

Takeru looked over his shoulder, surprised. “Of what?”

Angemon's hand paused on his shoulder for a brief second. Then he used his grip to tug Takeru gently back against his chest.

“They look really happy.” Takeru finally said, pressing his palm to the gel window. He turned to look at the rest of the classroom. It stretched so far he couldn't see the back wall. “I can't see my seat from here.” He said. “And I don't have my bus pass.”

“I can fly you there.” Angemon offered. “I have wings.”

He did have wings. But he was still missing one arm, and the tips of his feathers were beginning to disintegrate, too.

“If I fall it's going to hurt.” Takeru said, rather reasonably.

“That's true. Is that why you are afraid of me?” Angemon asked. He didn't sound mad or even hurt though, which was a relief; He was just curious.

“I don't know.” Takeru admitted, then repeated “But you only have one arm.” because it was still important.

“But I have wings.” Angemon pointed out, again. It was still true. He spread them a bit for emphasis. Takeru thought that they were beautiful, and wished he could bury his fingers in the soft feathers. He wondered if Angemon would like it if he did that. Maybe it would feel good to him.

“Ok.” He said. Angemon smiled down at him, dour, serious expression melting into something so beautific that Takeru's stomach squirmed with butterflies.

"I love you. He said as Angemon scooped him up against his chest. And he did. He would always love Angemon, even when he was Patamon, or Tokomon, or even Magnaangemon, because they were all his partner and they were all his.

He hadn't flown with Angemon in years. Not since their last digital adventure. He'd forgotten how wonderful it felt; he'd convinced himself he hadn't missed it, but the first powerful beat of Angemon's wings sent a thrill of joy from his head to his toes.

They flew low because of the ceiling, and to their right Takeru could still clearly see Yamato and Weregarurumon through the windows. The whole wall was a window. He didn't think there was glass in it.

He turned his face away and pressed it into the side of Angemon's neck instead -- he didn't want to look at them. Looking at them made him feel something.

He could feel the powerful muscles of Angemon's body shifting around him, and he knew that he smelled sweet -- like sunshine and ozone and a fresh breeze after a rainstorm. He pressed closer, chasing the scent, but even though he knew he could smell it he couldn't smell it, and that was a little disappointing. Angemon's grip tightened.

"I don't understand a lot of things." Takeru said softly into the side of Angemon's neck. Angemon's shivered against him and a trail of particles fell off of him like glitter. He was leaving a trail like a comet and he was gone up to his waist now. The tips of his wings and his hair we're fading from existence. Soon, Takeru would fall, but it would be ok, he thought, to be hurt a little for Angemon. After all, Angemon had hurt so often for him.

"No one understands everything."Angemon told him matter of factly.

Takeru tipped his head up to look at Angemon's face, and it was so pretty, but soon it would be gone, and he'd miss it. He wanted Angemon to know, so he leaned up and kissed him. His lips were soft and a little chapped. Takeru brought his hands up to the cool metal of Angemon's faceplate so that he could run his fingers along the seam where skin melded into metal. Angemon made a soft, please sound that sent liquid warmth shivering down Takeru's spine. He pushed forward again, clumsily pressing his tongue to the seam of Angemon's lips, pleased when they parted for him and he was able to slip inside of his partner and taste him.

"Angemon, please help me." He murmured.

“Takeru.” Angemon responded softly. "I'm going to drop you."

"Angemon…." he arched up for another kiss --

\--and fell.

Takeru jerked awake. It took his sleep and panic muzzled brain a moment to shake off the disconcerting sensation of vertigo the dream had left him with, and recognize the dimly lit ceiling above him as the same one he'd woke to since he'd been seven. He was too hot, even though he only had a thin sheet covering him. His nightshirt stuck to him uncomfortably and his underwear…

His underwear trapped his dick between it and his stomach; The restrictive pressure was the only reason he wasn't tenting the sheets. Takeru bit his lip, groaning inwardly. He'd moved his hand in his sleep to rest on his abdomen, and his thumb was making slow, unconscious circles across the tip, which poked above the elastic band. He moved his hand back to his side and wiped the sticky fluid smeared on the pad of the digit onto his boxers.

That had been….something. A very weird, nonsensical something.

He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out slowly through his nose, willing the ache his his penis and balls to recede.

This was Yamato's fault.

“Takeru?”

Takeru stiffened. He'd forgotten that Patamon had been sleeping next to him.

“Hey” he whispered. His voice came out a little shaky. “sorry, didn't mean to wake you up.” He turned his head a little. He could just see Patamon in the light filtering through his window from the street outside, curled up on a pillow a few inches from his head.

“You ok? You said my name really loudly.”

Ah.

Oh no.

“I...did?”

Patamon made a noise of agreement. His eyes, sharp and visibly blue even in the orangish dark, made Takeru feel seven again.

“Sorry.” He said again meekly. “I don't remember what I was dreaming about. Maybe I --” he cut himself off. The lie felt cold and heavy on his tongue but he couldn't -- wouldn't -- insinuate that he'd been having another nightmare. Patamon always felt so guilty...

His partner's nose wriggled the way it did when he was on the hunt for food, and he narrowed his eyes at Takeru.

“You don't remember?” He repeated in a suspicious tone to his voice. Takeru wondered, with an icy feeling of dread, if Patamon could smell the arousal still trapped hot but softening against his stomach. He licked his lips.

“No.” He whispered. _Liar liar liar you big fat liar_ his conscious gnawed at him, but he pushed it away. He really didn't want to share this dream. Especially not right now, with this specific digimon _._

Patamon watched him silently for a long moment -- Takeru though involuntarily of the severe downturn of Angemon's lips lifting in a smile just for him, and shivered -- then closed his eyes.

“Ok.” He said. “Go back to sleep then. I want pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.”

Takeru smiled despite his discomfort. It felt like glass.

“Sure thing, bud.” He said.

He didn't get back to sleep that night


End file.
